


In Our Bedroom After The War(s)

by harryhotspur



Series: the book of love is long and boring [3]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Domestic Bliss, Earthquake rescue, Earthquakes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Implied / Referenced Violence, M/M, Millennium Bug, Neurodivergent Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, New Years, Nicky just takes care of Joe really softly, Pre-Canon, Softness, What Happened in Malta (The Old Guard), from Nicky's POV, implied / referenced death, mentions of sensory overload, smut with a whole lot of feelings, very brief references to genocides in the 20th century, very light bondage in an attempt to deal with the horrors of the 20th century, very mild breath / impact play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryhotspur/pseuds/harryhotspur
Summary: November 1999-January 2000. After the grueling events of the 20th century, Joe comes to his breaking point in the ruins of Düzce. Nicky and Joe go to Malta to reconnect and escape a world and a century that feels overwhelming.But whatdidhappen in Malta? - surprising nobody the answer is very soft, very healing sex. As the world, and Joe and Nicky, enter a new millennium, Nicky contemplates time and the threat of a new apocalypse.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: the book of love is long and boring [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917394
Comments: 20
Kudos: 100





	In Our Bedroom After The War(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of The Book of Love Is Long And Boring - this part explores Quality Time. The basis of this fic is an expansion of a short scene in [Bright Lights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382739) \- you don't have to read this fic beforehand but it will provide nice context. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [Mehmeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehmehs/pseuds/aglassfullofhappiness) and [Mags](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/OldMagpie) for the excellent beta. As well as my cohort of Feral-Friends for our discussions of 'pillow psychology' as we all attempt (and enable each other) to write E rated fics.

_November 1999 - January 2000_

On the remnants of a crumbled wall in the ruins of Düzce, Joe sat with his head in his hands as his respirator hung loosely from one of his wrists. He looked up at Nicky with wide eyes, his face covered in dust streaked through with rivulets of what could have been sweat or tears and said: 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Nicky.” 

Joe’s voice was thick with unreleased emotion and Nicky felt his heart drop to his stomach. He covered the distance between them in two strides and took Joe’s hands in his, pulled down his own respirator and kissed him full on the lips. The kiss tasted of dirt and soot, Joe’s lips were dry and his mouth parched from the days of trawling through the rubble. Nicky felt his own lip split as he deepened the kiss which added the iron taste of blood to the unpalatable mix. Their hard hats clunked against each other as they tried and failed to lean closer together, to cover a distance which the events of this century had opened between them. All in all, it wasn’t their best kiss but it was sorely needed. 

When they came apart, Joe’s shoulders were shaking almost imperceptibly with tiny sobs and Nicky’s face was wet with his tears. He pulled Joe close to him and held him, unable to feel the warmth of his body through the heavy protective gear both of them were wearing. 

“What do you need?” Nicky whispered into Joe’s neck. “What can I do, my love.”

He felt Joe exhale against him. 

“I just need a break,” Joe’s voice was small, more resigned than Nicky had heard it for a while. “I need some time away...” He lifted his head up from Nicky’s shoulder and signalled to the two Red Crescent medics carrying a stretcher out of a collapsed bakery. “From all of this.” 

Nicky took a deep breath and an aching guilt gnawed at him. He looked around at the collapsed buildings riven apart by the Earth’s own movements, at the rescue workers moving between the buildings and at the search dogs darting up and down piles of shattered bricks. Nicky thought of the two of them pushing through the rubble, lifting huge chunks of mortar with wallpaper still attached, once the foundations of a home. As they worked, the precarious piles shifted downwards and caved in on themselves again and again. Their work undone in a cloud of dust and an avalanche of stones. 

The twentieth century had felt like one extended collapse, one extended struggle where one brick was lifted even as twenty more tumbled down to fill its place. It was harder to feel like a difference was being made when borders and peoples and religions were shifting and blending and fighting and killing with what seemed like no logical reasoning. Nicky thought of the bloodstained mud of Flanders; seeing Nagasaki and Hiroshima on a flickering TV screen disappear into dust; watching in horror as the world seemed poised and ready to blow itself apart with the very stuff it was made of; his skin burning as he yelled _run_ in more tongues than he could count; seeing flags of freedom become bloodstained as old grievances and hate seized new states... It went on and on and on - a litany of horror. 

“How do we face this?” Joe had said to Nicky - sometime around 1923 or 1945, or 48, or was it 1979, or 1994? - as they surveyed another killing field; another mass grave; another place where, through churned up soil, small wildflowers and green shoots strained to push through earth made newly fertile. Nicky waited for Joe to say something about the flowers having some meaning - expressing some potential for hope for the hopeless, for good to emerge from terrible violence - instead, Joe stayed silent. “We just... face it,” Nicky had said after a while. “We face it, we try to help people, we try to do the best we can.” Joe had squeezed his hand and turned to him with downturned eyes as Nicky was seized with the terrible feeling of deja vu which screamed; _we have been here so many times before_. 

Now, standing in the rubble, Nicky said:

“Shall we go to Malta?” as if it was the simplest thing in the word. 

Malta was their place of stability, a place of comfort, a place where they went to process some of the horrors they witnessed in their line of work. The small farmhouse just outside of Mellieħa had become a place which they returned to whenever they needed an escape from the relentless pace at which their lives thundered along. When the two of them became overwhelmed, Nicky found himself reluctantly pushing away and Joe found himself frantically pulling in closer. In their respective states of anxiety and stress, cracks started to appear in their usual fluidity of movement and thought. They had been together long enough to know when they needed a break to reconnect and find each other again. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together. 

Joe pulled away from Nicky and looked up with his big brown eyes. He wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve, leaving a dusty streak behind. 

“That would be nice,” Joe sniffed deeply and Nicky could tell he was a bit self conscious at his sudden release of emotion. Nicky thought that maybe Joe felt it offensive that he was crying when surrounded by so much pain. Joe did always wear his heart on his sleeve, his eyes welling up at sadness or joy. Joe’s eye line also tracked around the scene which surrounded them. “We should finish up here first.” 

“We can go you know,” Nicky said, taking Joe’s hands in his. “We can just go, we don’t have to stay.” 

Joe looked him dead in the eyes. 

“You want to stay, Nicky. I want to stay. I want to help.” 

Nicky squeezed Joe’s thick gloved hand. Joe’s deep ability to compromise, his empathy and pure unbridled concern for others were all reasons why Nicky loved him the way he did. It also made him worry; as Joe carved off pieces of himself and gave them away freely to others, he sometimes forgot when there was nothing left of himself to give. They were both similar in that way. 

“I also want to make sure you are okay.” He paused and rubbed his thumb over where Joe’s knuckle would be under the glove. “That we are okay. We can help all we want but as you always say we have to look after ourselves.”

Joe leaned forwards into the hug and pressed their helmeted foreheads together. 

“I’m okay, Nicky. I - I just got a bit overwhelmed. The last few days have been... a lot.” Joe paused and swallowed. “We’ll do this and then we’ll have a break, okay?” 

With his face so close to Joe’s, Nicky could feel his breath on his cheek. Even with the tragedy unfolding behind them, this moment became uniquely theirs. 

“Okay, Joe - as long as you are alright? We’ll go to the house in Malta.” 

“That sounds lovely.”

Nicky looked into Joe’s eyes and saw them soften as if a weight had been released from his mind. 

“Thank you.” As they slowly bumped their helmets together, Joe whispered to him, “let’s go and try and save this small part of the bigger world.” 

Nicky’s heart swelled in his chest with deep, unfathomable, boundless love for the man in front of him. He stood up and took Joe’s hand to pull him to his feet. Nicky dusted off Joe’s shoulder like he was brushing lint off a suit jacket rather than plaster dust off orange overalls. He reached up and wiped away a stray tear from Joe’s jawbone as if he was the most precious thing in the world. Which, of course, he was. 

“Alright, and then Malta.” 

“And then Malta.”

Nicky squeezed Joe’s hand as they looked across at the shattered street in front of them. Then, as they always did, they walked towards it - together. 

***

Now, in their old farmhouse in Mellieħa, the fractured and broken world shrank down to their bed and the syrupy afternoon sunlight which spilled in through the shutters. Through them, the cool sea breeze buffeted the light curtains and filled the room with the tang of salt. 

Joe laid on his back on the bed, framed by the rich light, as Nicky straddled his waist and pressed soft kisses on the tender spot where Joe’s jawbone met his neck. Joe responded with a quiet, breathless whine as Nicky’s kiss sharpened and a small bruise bloomed beneath his lips, vanishing as quickly as it had flowered. Nicky’s hand reached up and under Joe’s t-shirt, coaxing more soft huffs and whines out of him as he brushed his fingers up and down the sensitive patch where Joe’s ribs met his stomach. 

Nicky didn’t have the words for what those noises did to him, so instead he expressed it through a kiss. He moved from Joe’s neck up to his mouth and kissed him slowly and languidly, trying to transfer his thoughts of _I need you, I want to take care of you, I want you to know you are the most beautiful, most loved man on this whole messed up planet_ through wordless movements of his lips. Joe tasted like coffee and pomegranate, along with the taste which was so uniquely _Joe_ which Nicky always found very hard to describe. Joe would be able to describe it with his way with words and his uncanny ability to turn the mundane and the ugly into the sweetest poetry. Instead, Nicky just disappeared into the kiss. 

Nicky’s kisses further deepened the red of Joe’s lips, already stained from the pomegranate they had shared in the garden after lunch. They had missed apricot season- the tree outside the window, larger now than the last time they were here, was already barren. The pomegranate tree, however, was heavy laden with fruit. Standing on his tip-toes, Joe had reached up and picked one straight from the tree and cut it on a wooden board on the small outside table. The rich wine-red juice spilled out as he split it open in his large hands and offered Nicky a piece. Nicky took it from him and watched as the juice dripped down between his fingers and settled into the tiny creases like a parched delta refilling. Joe pulled off a chunk of the seeds from his own piece of pomegranate, let the juice run down the curve of his thumb and licked it off slowly in a way which was openly seductive. Immediately, a flush of arousal coloured Nicky’s cheeks, sent shocks to his abdomen and made him shiver. Nicky saw Joe’s eyes widen as he saw how the action had affected him, and he repeated it even slower. Then, Joe smiled with red-stained teeth and laughed his big, open, wondrous laugh. Nicky narrowed his eyes and slowly chewed his own piece of pomegranate.

“All I want to do is fuck you right now,” Nicky said, locking eyes with Joe. He wasn’t usually so blunt. Usually, they could tell when the other was in the mood through a litany of small touches, tones of voice and tiny shifts in the mood of a kiss. Maybe his boldness was something to do with the fact they were in Malta, and trying to carve out their own space again in a world which felt like it was just taking and taking from them. Both of them felt like they needed to seize back control and it made Nicky bold, unbridled and unashamed. 

Joe had looked at him with a glint in his eye and said: 

“Why don’t you then?”

So now Joe was spread on the bed, moaning gently into Nicky’s mouth until they pulled apart, breathless and gasping. Nicky pressed a kiss to Joe’s nose as they parted, causing him to scrunch up his eyes, shiver and giggle. Wordlessly, Nicky drew Joe up into a sitting position and peeled his t-shirt over his head. The rich afternoon light framed Joe beautifully, cutting lines of orange across his toned stomach. Nicky inhaled deeply at the sight of Joe and pressed a kiss to the tight curled dark hair which tracked down from his navel. He breathed in deeply and allowed the smell of Joe to fill his senses - slightly sweaty from their hike earlier and tinged with salt from their plunge in the sea. 

“You are so beautiful,” Nicky mumbled as he kissed upwards in a weaving path to Joe’s chest. He came to rest on one of his nipples and sucked gently, causing Joe to throw his head back and let out a breathy exhale. The curve of his neck as he gasped in rapture stirred something hot and wild in Nicky and he reached up and traced a finger across the sharp angle of Joe’s Adam’s apple. Joe’s pulse beat rabbit-fast against Nicky’s finger’s as he splayed his hand around Joe’s neck, squeezed gently, and then moved downwards to trace his fingers across his collar-bone.

From where he was sitting in Joe’s lap, he could feel the proofs of their arousal pressing against each other, a pleasurable but maddening sensation. Nicky found himself moving reflexively and felt Joe also moving against him, grinding in an attempt for release. They kissed slowly and deeply again as Joe deftly undid the buttons on Nicky’s shirt, pushed it off his shoulders and let it pool in a white puddle around his waist. Joe’s hand came back to rest where he had undone the last button and then moved down to the fly of Nicky’s jeans, palming the slight bulge forming there. Nicky placed a hand on top of Joe’s and moved it away. 

“No,” he said, “I want to take care of you.” 

They both knew intimately what the other needed when stressed or upset. When Nicky was overloaded and anxious, sat with his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers rammed in his ears as far as they could go, Joe always knew exactly what to do. He knew when Nicky needed to be alone, when he just needed Joe to sit nearby; or when Nicky needed Joe to lie on top of him in a dark room, pull him close and press his weight against him until light and sound no longer felt like daggers. He knew when Nicky needed him to take him up to wherever they called their bedroom and touch him in the very specific way which made his senses stop screaming at him, allowed his mind to slow down and his brain be filled with nothing but _Joe, Joe, Joe._ Of course, it worked the other way around as well. Nicky noticed when Joe was struggling even before Joe noticed it in himself. He made sure to take Joe out of situations which were becoming too much for him, knew when to make him a cup of tea, to tell him to sleep and that they could sort it in the morning. When Joe was the one silently screaming, Nicky always heard him, and would be right there beside him. 

Over the last few weeks, Nicky had seen Joe become more and more overwhelmed. From the look in Joe’s eyes and his demeanour, Nicky could tell exactly what he needed, even just for a night. It was what he had needed for a long time through this long century of war and famine and disease and revolutions and counter-revolutions and senseless killing and fire and flood and the earth breaking apart. 

‘I want to take care of you, my love,” Nicky said again. 

“Are you sure?” Joe asked, as his eyes scanned down to the bulge straining against Nicky’s jeans. 

Nicky knew Joe was certain, however after all these years it still made his heart sing that they always _asked_ each other _._ In a world where choice was often taken from them, and they saw choice and agency ripped from others more and more often - it had become a deeply healing and vital part of all their interactions with one another. 

“You know I always am,” Nicky replied before kissing him gently and pushing Joe back onto the bed. 

Joe lay back on the mattress with a breathy sigh. His breathing was already coming in panting gasps, and his eyes had that glazed look which Nicky knew meant Joe was lost in thoughts of what was going to follow. Nicky gently undid the button of Joe’s jeans, unzipped his fly and pushed them down around his hips, revealing his pink boxers decorated with tiny neon yellow pineapples. They would be hilarious and mood killing if Nicky didn’t find the man spread out before him so ridiculously attractive. Nicky loved and cherished everything about Joe - even his questionable choices regarding novelty underwear. 

The sight of Joe with his jeans bunched around his thighs was enough to increase Nicky’s pace, however gradually. He pulled Joe’s jeans down so they were fully off his legs and dropped them on the floor next to the bed. Joe responded by hooking a toe in the top of one of his socks and peeling them off, one after the other. Nicky moved himself up Joe’s body and sat across him, straddling his hips again. Almost by reflex, Joe’s hand splayed across his own stomach and toyed with the thick elastic waistband of his boxers, signalling where he wanted Nicky to touch him. Nicky felt Joe buck up against him, and a hot wave of pleasure crashed through his body. 

They could fuck like this right now, in the frantic way they did on missions when, still half-clothed, they took each other in their hands and quickly worked the other to release. Or in the lazy, halfhearted way they fucked in groggy hours before sleep; lying face to face and stroking each other languidly until they came - or they didn’t - it didn’t really matter. But this time, in their house in Malta, on this rich sun drenched winter afternoon, Nicky wanted to make this last. He wanted to mold Joe beneath his hands and ease away all the stress and tensions which had worked its way into his muscles and into the creases around his eyes. Nicky wanted to take Joe apart, and in the process take himself apart until they could form a new world out of the fragmented pieces left behind. 

Nicky reached across to the bedside table where Joe’s light linen scarf sat discarded after their morning walk. He brushed the fabric across Joe’s chest and watched in rapture as tiny goosebumps flared on his skin. Joe let out a long whine which came to an abrupt stop when Nicky pinned one of his wrists down against the mattress. 

“You okay?” he asked, as he looped the scarf around Joe’s wrist and tied it. 

“You know I always am,” Joe said, his voice leaving his mouth in a breathy whisper. 

Nicky looped the scarf around the slats of the headboard, securing it with another knot to keep Joe in position. As he completed the tie around Joe’s other wrist, Nicky pressed a kiss to the pulse point and felt Joe’s pulse beat in a fast staccato against his lips. Joe tensed gently against the restraints and exhaled. There was a calmness creeping onto his face that Nicky hadn’t seen for a long time. 

Nicky knew how much Joe liked this - how much they _both_ liked this - in the same roles and when the roles were reversed. Joe knew exactly how Nicky liked his hands bound and that he liked his ankles bound as well. He knew exactly where and how Nicky liked to be touched and where he didn’t. Joe always used the right amount of pressure which made him lean into the touch rather than flinch away. 

“Not too tight?” Nicky asked as he slipped one of his fingers between the scarf and Joe’s wrist. 

“No, no, they’re fine,” Joe replied, as he pulled against them again. “More than fine.” 

Nicky reached across to the bedside table again, pulled open one of the drawers and pulled out another scarf, this one a light silk. Joe’s fondness for scarves this decade really did have its uses. Joe leaned his head forward in a wordless gesture, indicating he knew exactly what was coming as Nicky tied the scarf around his eyes. Joe was always a very visual person, marvelling in colours and people’s features, and the light of the sun or the way the moonlight peeked between barren winter trees. Taking away his favoured sense made him especially sensitive in a way which drove both of them wild. As Joe’s world became dark, Nicky kissed him again, full on the lips and slowly, savouring every minute of it. Joe responded hungrily, grinding against Nicky’s leg in a search for sensation. 

As Nicky pulled away, Joe lay back with his wrists slack in the restraints and let out what could only be described as a whimper. Nicky pressed a finger to Joe’s lips and ran them over the soft skin. 

“Hush, my love, patience,” he whispered, low in Joe’s ear, making him shiver and laugh softly. Nicky chastised him by sucking on his earlobe gently and tracing his tongue around the cartilage. “I’m going to take my time.” 

“We have all the time in the world.” Joe’s voice came out husky, hazed by his unsatisfied arousal. 

“I want to spend that time showing you how beautiful you are.” The sight of Joe lying before him made words tumble freely out of Nicky’s mouth in ways they never did outside of the private world of their bedroom. They both now walked in a world free of inhibition, free of self-consciousness, where words and phrases which sounded trite or twee in any other setting became inscrutable, affirming truths.

Nicky traced a finger from Joe’s ankle, up the inside of his calf, to the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. The dark hairs on Joe’s legs rose up in the wake of his touches, and he left out a breathless sound as Nicky moved his finger in slow circles. He stopped just before the tender area between his legs. Instead of satisfying him, Nicky spread his palms across Joe’s hips, followed the curve of Joe’s hipbone around to his ass, slipped his hand into his underwear and squeezed. Joe whimpered as he dug his fingers in the firm muscle before brushing a thumb over the soft skin between the two cheeks. The brief touch was enough to make Joe yelp, tense against the restraints and let out a soft whine. It turned suddenly into a groan as Nicky moved his fingers away 

Joe squirmed and his soft huffs turned into a low moan as Nicky brushed a hand over the pink fabric of his underwear and then pressed a kiss there. He tenderly ran his tongue around the shape of Joe through the thin material, eliciting a low sound from him which was practically obscene _._ Even through the fabric, he could almost taste Joe on his tongue, and the intoxicating smell of him filled his senses. Nicky looked up as he pressed his whole mouth against the fabric and exhaled, he saw Joe shiver and his fingers tense against the bed sheets as he lifted his hips slightly off the bed. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Joe whispered breathlessly, so quiet Nicky could hardly hear him. 

Nicky responded by moving his kisses upwards across Joe’s stomach, worshipping the soft line of hair which ran down from his chest to beyond his navel. He kissed all the way up to his chest, nuzzling the tightly curled hair and taking Joe’s nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue in the way that worked a whimper out of him. 

“You are so gorgeous, my love,” he breathed into the smattering of freckles across Joe’s shoulders. ”How did the world bless me with such a perfect man?” 

Nicky teased Joe with his mouth again, breathing softly over the straining fabric and teasingly working a finger inside the boxer’s opening. When Joe let out a low whine, it fired something _primal_ in Nicky, and he pushed Joe’s underwear down around his thighs, freeing him. Nicky’s breath left him in a soft gasp, as if he was seeing Joe for the first time. The image of Joe with his hands bound above his head, the scarf draping from his eyes across the pillow as he tensed and arched his back in an attempt to get closer to Nicky, was more beautiful than anything Nicky had ever seen in his life. 

Nicky closed the distance and finally placed his mouth onto Joe, coaxing out a slow whine as he kissed and licked a slow path upwards and then slowly took him fully into his mouth. He sucked in a painfully slow rhythm and watched as Joe’s mouth fell open, as pleasure overtook him. Nicky marvelled in seeing and hearing how Joe reacted to the deliberate movements of his mouth and tongue. He took great pride in creating a varying metre which conducted Joe’s moans until they reached the peak of a crescendo, and then slowed so Joe’s noises fell away in a drawn out diminuendo. His own arousal was almost painful in his jeans but he knew how good it was to wait. Nicky prided himself on his patience and the _thought_ of what would come later made it all the sweeter and dulled the ache. 

As Nicky removed his mouth from him, Joe let out a frustrated sound and pushed his hips upwards in an attempt to find him again. 

“Nicolò,” he started, wriggling on the bed against the restraints. 

Nicky hushed him gently and reached across to the bedside table where he pulled open the drawer and grabbed the small bottle of lube. The sound of the cap popping open elicited an almost Pavlovian response from Joe. He settled back onto the mattress and sighed happily, secure in the knowledge of what was coming. Nicky squeezed the cold liquid onto his hand, pushed Joe’s legs back and rubbed it between the cheeks of Joe’s ass. He pressed a kiss to the ring of muscle and Joe hummed in pleasure as Nicky drew his mouth away and pushed one of his fingers inside. Joe sighed deeply as Nicky curved his finger inside him, crooking it towards his stomach and stroking the smooth walls inside in a slow rhythm. Joe pulled against the restraints and breathed out deeply as Nicky added a second finger. He fucked him lazily and returned his mouth to Joe, licking and sucking a circle around the tip of him. 

In his blissed out state, Joe mumbled poetry which was in equal parts beautiful and obscene. With his head thrown back, he breathlessly whispered through moans how Nicky’s fingers inside of him contained more lyricism than all the poetry ever written, how even the greatest art paled in comparison to Nicky’s mouth on his cock and how all the music ever written on this earth couldn’t compare to the sounds he made when he fucked him.

Yusuf had a poet’s soul and Nicky took great pleasure in reaching the point when his poet was strung out and wordless. Joe’s mumbling abruptly stopped as Nicky took him fully into his mouth and worked his tongue around him in the way he knew drove Joe to a place of no return. He increased the rhythm of his fingers to a frantic pace. Joe looked like a dream, head thrown back and his body a perfect arch. Nicky’s pace and Joe’s vocalisations increased to the point when Nicky knew he was close to the edge. If he crooked his fingers a certain way; moved his mouth and tongue at a particular angle; Joe would come, wet and hot. 

Nicky suddenly stopped moving his fingers and in a long fluid movement drew his mouth off Joe. 

Joe let out a long whine which turned into a desperate laugh. 

“Fuck, Nicky, why are you so _cruel_.” 

“You said you were going to be patient, Yusuf,” Nicky chided, as he connected a slap to Yusuf’s ass causing him to yelp. It was dangerous, he knew from experience that Joe had been known to come from that alone when he was close to the edge. 

“I _am,_ ” Joe responded. “Nicky, please.” They had slipped into their shared language, a mixture of Italian, Arabic and touches of Ligurian and Tamazight. 

Nicky sat back and fumbled as he tried to keep his fingers inside of Joe and undo the button and fly of his jeans one-handed at the same time. He pushed himself up onto his haunches and attempted to push his jeans and briefs down but his erection got in the way. As he stretched one of his legs out in an attempt to undress, the change in position caused him to pitch suddenly to the side and nearly topple off the bed. As he slipped, Nicky’s fingers twisted inside of Joe at an awkward angle causing him to hiss sharply. Nicky’s heart jumped in his chest at the sound.

“Shit, Joe, I’m sorry.” 

Joe laughed, his chest rose and fell rapidly as it broke through his arousal. 

“ _Ow_ , Nicky, just take your goddamn fingers out and get your pants off.” Even without his sight he knew what Nicky was trying to do. 

“Are you alright, I didn’t hurt you?” 

“No you didn’t Nicky, _please_ just get your fucking pants off.” 

Nicky slipped his fingers out of Joe and sat on the side of the bed, frantically trying to get rid of his jeans, pushing the material down and stripping off. Then he stood up and hopped on one leg as he tried to get his feet out. He wobbled as he stepped out of the jeans, and as he pushed them over his feet, one of the trouser legs took a sock with it while the other was left on his foot. With his jeans tossed to one side, he span back around and climbed back onto the bed. Once he was settled back next to Joe, Nicky squeezed more lube onto both of his hands and returned his fingers into Joe. As he entered him again, and began to curve his fingers again, a small smile spread slowly across Joe’s face. 

“Just like that,” he sighed. 

“It’s good?” 

“Always.” 

As he fucked Joe languidly with one hand, he took himself in the other and stroked until he was slick. Even that alone was enough to cause Nicky to shiver and a low sound to leave his mouth. Gently, he removed his fingers from Joe. “You ready?” he asked, and then pushed himself tenderly inside at Joe’s nod. Joe bristled and moaned, lifting his back up off the bed as he slid onto Nicky. They both moved slowly as Joe got used to the sensation. 

“You okay?” Nicky asked. 

“Feels so good, I need this.” 

Nicky increased his pace slightly, sliding fully into Joe. He had waited so long that he was immediately floored by the feeling. The sensation was something else, every nerve ending in his body sang, his breath left him and he gripped the sheets with one hand. He knew they wouldn’t last long like this unless he moved very slowly. So he did, moving in and out and drawing soft breathy moans out of them both. They continued like this for a while as Nicky mumbled adorations into Joe’s ear. 

Eventually, their pace increased. As he moved quicker inside of Joe, the warm feeling of him tensing around him as he moved in and out drew a more desperate whine out of Nicky. Joe felt so good like this - they fit together perfectly. Nicky disappeared into him, marvelling in the feeling of the inside of Joe hugging him. As he drew forwards and back, his pleasure intensifying with each thrust of his hips, Nicky found his mind wandering to thoughts of the universe. His mind was filled with thoughts of Geocentric models, of Aristotle and Ptolemy, of the whole cosmos rotating around a fixed-point Earth. He opened his eyes and looked at Joe, spread out in bliss, his legs spread as Nicky moved in and out of him. Joe’s mouth was open, his brow beaded with sweat and his curls plastered to forehead. In the dimming light as the sun waned and the moon brightened, he looked what could only be described as _fucking radiant._ Nicky’s mind turned to images of Copernican heliocentrism , of all the planets moving in a slow dance around a stationary sun at the centre of everything. Nicky moved his hips again, and Joe let out a moan as Nicky brushed against the sensitive spot inside of him. Fucking Joe was its own kind of heliocentrism, everything he did revolved around him, his fixed point; his Sun. Now, in this moment, the whole cosmos rotated around this bed. _What would that be called - lectocentrism?_

Joe let out a more frantic cry and the thought fell away as quickly as it was born. Nicky thrust forward again as sweat beaded down his back, with every movement he brushed against the tender and sensitive spot inside of Joe. The barrier between what was Nicolò and what was Yusuf shattered and they became one being, precariously suspended in this moment in time. With each movement the world shifted and changed; the planets, the stars, time itself, fell out of their usual motion and began to spin in concentric circles, starting lazily and increasing in frequency until the whole world fell away around them. Nicky entwined his fingers with Joe’s, holding onto him as if he was going to lose him in this new whirlwind. Time seemed to blend, wrapping in a tight ribbon around the bed as they inhabited every place, every time they had ever been in simultaneously. All the pain; all the blood; all the sweat and tears and bile melted away for a few minutes into this moment of pure connection. 

Joe squeezed Nicky’s hand tighter and mumbled something that sounded like _I’m close._ Nicky found himself mumbling something incoherently back. Stars danced behind his eyes as he pushed deeper into Joe - there was a pleasure in this that felt like nothing else on this Earth. Nicky didn’t know what he was saying, but words left his mouth that sounded like _youaresogoodiloveyoufuckyouaresobeautifulwewillalwaysbetogether._ The stars brightened until their light was almost blinding, what sounded like rushing water roared in Nicky’s ears and his entire body felt hot and flushed with pleasure. He tensed. Joe tensed. The world was born again in a bloom of light and sound and heat and wetness. 

Slowly the room came back into focus, filled with sounds of their breathing regulating. Nicky drew himself out of Joe who exhaled deeply as he was left empty. Joe lay boneless on his back, his face covered in an image of calm, a small smile on his lips. Nicky looked up from where he had come to rest on Joe’s chest and pushed himself up to untie the scarf around his eyes. Joe blinked slowly as light filled his vision again, their gazes met and a full smile passed across Joe’s face. Nicky felt a stabbing feeling in his stomach which could only be described as deep love and pressed tender kisses to Joe’s lips and cheeks. He kissed each of his wrists and palms as he untied Joe’s hand from the headboard, and Joe responded by using his new freedom to trace a hand across Nicky’s face and pull him closer into a kiss which said everything he needed to say. 

When they broke apart, Nicky rolled off Joe’s chest and lay next to him. Joe stared up blindly at the ceiling as Nicky nuzzled into his side. 

“That hardly ever happens,” Joe said softly, his voice still distant and mumbled from sex. 

“What?” Nicky responded, unsure what Joe meant. 

“Us both coming at the same time.” 

They both laughed.

“That isn’t some great and lofty goal of all sex, Joe.” 

Joe smiled, and tapped Nicky on his nose. 

“You just say that because I could _breathe_ on you a certain way and make you come,” Joe said with a wicked tone in his voice. He moved his position slightly, and intertwined his fingers with Nicky’s. “In all honesty though, I know that, Nicky - I just like it when it does happen.” 

Joe drew Nicky closer to him, and they both enjoyed the calm.

There was a strange absurdity to it, a feeling that something had been made anew in this room between them even after all the time they had shared together. They lay face to face, now bathed in the December moonlight. Nicky shifted, trying to reduce the discomfort of the stickiness between his thighs and across his stomach. Joe reached down beside the bed, grabbed his bunched up t-shirt and reached behind himself in an attempt to clean himself up. The room smelled of sweat and sex and the blankets and their clothes lay in a tangled pile on the floor. The breeze coming in through the window was cool, Nicky found himself shivering, and Joe grabbed and pulled the blanket up over them both. 

“Feel better?” Nicky asked Joe, as he snuggled in against him. 

“Mhmm, it feels like it’s been too long since we have had a chance to just _be_ together,” Joe replied. “It’s nice, I feel like I’ve been missing you even though we were side by side all along.” 

“I missed you too,” Nicky said. 

“It’s been a long century,” Joe whispered. “I’m pleased we have each other.” He rubbed a hand up Nicky’s back, pressing his fingers up the notches of his lower spine. 

“I am too,” Nicky said. 

“It would have been fucking unbearable without you.”

They kissed again, long and slowly and as they drew away Nicky said: 

“We are very lucky.” 

“I know we are.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Joe hooked his leg in between Nicky’s, brushing his toe along Nicky’s calf until it rested on the top of his sock. “Are you still wearing one sock?” he asked in mock offense. 

“Maybe...” Nicky replied. 

They laughed and held each other closer. The world outside the windows was often ugly and brutal but for now they had this; they had each other. Ultimately, for the both of them, small moments such as this made everything they saw and did manageable. After pain and after war, the two of them held onto these times when something was created, a connection was forged, instead of everything and everybody slowly crumbling and falling apart. 

In their small room, in their old house in Malta, a small wound began to heal. 

***

Two weeks later, Nicky and Joe stood looking down on the harbour in Valletta. For the last day of December, the air was still mild and heady with a mixture of excitement and trepidation for the birth of the new millennium. People milled about excitedly and children ran in small groups around their parents, whooping and fueled with the delight of being allowed to stay up late. Groups of friends chatted and drank, leaning on each other in the liminal moments between half eleven and midnight. The lights of the city sparkled on the water, illuminating the small boats in the harbour. 

Nicky rested his can of beer on the low wall and turned to Joe: 

“Well, Joe. The world didn’t end in Samoa...” he started. 

“Or in any of the other dozen or so countries where it is now 2000, Nicky,” Joe replied as he sipped from his can of Fanta. 

For the last few weeks Nicky had been obsessively following the news of the Y2K bug. He wasn’t the greatest fan of technology, but something about this fascinated him. The Maltese press touched upon it but Nicky wanted to see the wider world view. So on one of their drives down to Valletta, he went to the international newsagents and bought copies of _The Observer, Corriere della Sera, The Washington Post_ and _Echorouk El Yawmi_ , as well as about five tabloids from across the world. Tabloids were always the best for gossip and for getting to the root of a people’s innermost fears. Nicky’s brain wanted to absorb all the information - both measured critical opinions and articles with loud headlines screaming: MILLENNIUM BUG SET TO BUGGER EARTH. 

On the drive back to Mellieħa, he tried to read some of the papers before he had to stop due to car sickness, forced to wait impatiently to get to his haul. When they got home he sat next to Joe in their bed, the newspapers folded on his knees as he read columnists’s visions of planes falling from the sky, nuclear bombs misfiring and money vanishing from global bank accounts as if by a magic trick. It seemed to Nicky to be fueled by the apparent belief that the world wouldn’t need code beyond two digits, that there weren’t going to be any more years after 1999. After the century they had it would be _fitting_ for the world to end via a glitch caused by some programmers decades back.

“Everything is run by computers now, Joe,” Nicky had explained, as they sat and drank coffee under the now significantly depleted pomegranate tree. He had just finished reading an article in _The Times of Malta_ which had summed it up well. “Banking, the nuclear codes and even emergency services dispatch. This fault in the code means that as soon as the clock turns to midnight on the first, time will just cease to exist - in the eyes of the computers anyway.” 

Joe sipped his coffee and concentrated on his pastry. He looked fuller in the face from when they had arrived a few weeks ago and had relaxed into the little life they created together. 

“Time won’t cease to exist, Nicky,” Joe had said and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if the mere mention of it was destroying this world they had created together. 

“Most computers are programmed with two digit codes, Joe, so they won’t recognise the new date when it comes. All the systems the world runs on will be suspended in this timeless state and they will all fail.” 

Joe laughed softly and picked another pastry off their shared plate. Nicky hadn’t eaten one yet. 

“It doesn’t mean time will cease to exist though.” 

Nicky opened his mouth to speak again before Joe had barely finished: 

“But it will affect everything that the computers control - hence it causing the end of the world.” 

Joe took his hand across the table and pressed a kiss to Nicky’s knuckles. 

“The world won’t end because some computers can’t figure out what day it is,” he said. “We have lived through enough changes of the calendar to know that it takes a lot more than the way we measure time to cause it to stop.”

Nicky supposed Joe was right; time was a funny thing and they had lived through enough of it to know how it shifted and changed and slowed and sped up depending on the circumstances. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread which gripped him. 

That dread lingered as the days drew closer to the thirty-first. After Nicky awoke with a start one night - his t-shirt drenched with cold sweat after dreaming of the world falling apart in a cascade of malfunctioning 1s and 0s - Joe banned him from reading the newspapers. 

“We’ll see what happens on New Years,” Joe had said, as he helped Nicky strip off his sweaty shirt. “If the world is going to end - what is the point of spending our last days worrying about it?” Then he kissed and held Nicky until he fell back to sleep. 

Of course, Joe was right and Nicky had felt a little bad for dulling his enthusiasm for the new millennium. 

Now, in Valletta, the new millennium inched ever closer. Joe was very much seeing it as a new start; a new milestone in their relationship and in their lives. Joe, especially, was looking forward to waving the 20th century goodbye and welcoming their first new millennium together. 

Nicky looked out across the harbour. It had changed in subtle ways since they had first come to Malta in the thirteenth century- the boats were now motor powered, the lights powered by electricity. The view over the sea and the man standing beside him as they looked out over it had remained reassuringly the same. 

He took Joe’s hand in his and pulled him closer to him. 

“Not long to go now,” he said, looking over to Joe’s wrist and checking his watch. 

Joe squeezed his hand tighter. 

The crowd around them buzzed with excitement, pulling together and apart in laughter and chatter as the fated hour got closer. A man plucked out a song on a guitar, a child sang a different tune and the couple next to them danced off beat. 

Then somehow, wordlessly, everybody in the street came together as they began a countdown. They became one unit, measuring out time with their collective voices. 

_Ten. Nine. Eight._

Joe spun Nicky around and wrapped one of his arms around the back of his neck, ready to pull him in for a kiss. 

_Seven. Six. Five._

They drew closer to each other, resting their foreheads together. 

_Five. Four._

Nicky held onto Joe. If the world was going to end, this was exactly how it wanted it to- with his arms around his beloved and the voices of a crowd all chanting together behind him. If this was the end, he wanted to feel all the human connection he could before that line was severed. 

_Three_

_Two._

_One._

Their lips met as they both leaned into the kiss. Fireworks exploded behind them, showering them in colourful light. The new millennium came into being in a burst of light and sound, cheering and kissing. Nicky and Joe kissed for a long time, savouring the taste of each other and the feel of their bodies’ closeness. 

Breathlessly, they finally pulled away and turned to watch the fireworks, bursting and lighting up the bay in all the colours of the rainbow. Nicky looked up behind him to see people hanging out of their windows and calling across to their neighbours in Italian, Arabic and Maltese: _Happy New Year!_ Below, down by the harbour, people thronged together, waving sparklers in the air. 

Joe raised an eyebrow, and motioned towards the sky: 

“Looks like all the planes are safe,” he said with a smirk. “Your supposed apocalypse hasn’t materialised, my love.” 

Nicky huffed gently. “Come here,” he said, and pulled Joe into another hug. 

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, old man,” Joe replied. “How does it feel to be in your second millennium?”

Nicky smiled and pressed a small kiss to Joe’s cheek. “All the better with you.” 

Joe smiled back. Still holding each other, they looked out over the harbour as the fireworks continued. 

Nicky leaned against Joe’s shoulder as an excited group of children rushed past them crying out in tiny voices. The man had started playing the guitar again and everybody around them started to sing the same song. 

For a night, the world felt happy and safe lit by fireworks and soundtracked by soft guitar strings. For the first time in what felt like a while, the strangers surrounding them were happy, connected and with their families. Nicky had Joe beside him. They walked through the streets and darted in and out of bars until their feet hurt and their voices were hoarse from conversing with strangers and singing on strobe-lit dance floors. To Nicky, the world didn’t feel any different. However, he could tell that Joe had a new energy about him, buoyed by a night of socialising and laughter. 

“The twenty-first century will be better,” Joe said as they sat on a bench in St George’s Square, watching the last party-goers return to their homes. He took a deep breath and with a conviction in his voice, as if he was trying to reassure himself, added: “It has to be.”

Nicky turned to Joe, placed a hand on his knee and squeezed. 

“I really hope so, my love.” 

For now, they had each other and the tangible promise of a new start for the world suspended in the air above them. As the sun rose and cast swathes of sunlight and shadow across the square, it seemed almost as if they could both reach out and grab it.

For today, that thought alone was enough. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The start of this fic takes place in the rescue operations after the [Düzce earthquake](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1999_D%C3%BCzce_earthquake) in 1999. Nicky, at the end of the fic is worrying about the [YK2 problem](https://time.com/5752129/y2k-bug-history/). 
> 
> Regarding the Neurodivergent Nicky Tag, it wasn't really my intention to tag this for the first time in an E rated fic. Thanks to friends listening to me yell about my headcanons/ reading of the character, I feel I have the confidence to tag it now! I have always written / read Nicky as neurodivergent in some way. I specifically write him as dyspraxic (like me) as it's just 24/7 projection hours over here. It's not a perfect summary of dyspraxia by any means but you can find out more [here](https://dyspraxiafoundation.org.uk/dyspraxia-adults/). Neurodivergent Nicky is very close to my heart and as all neurodivergences have their cross-links between each other (especially dyspraxia, autism, adhd, and sensory processing disorder), I hope other neurodivergent people can see themselves in my portrayal of him. 
> 
> Title comes from Stars [In Our Bedroom After The War](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5qx_ZMY7tU).
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading and please do feel free to leave all comments and critiques on this work <3


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